


Pickpocket

by rudbeckia



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Killing Brendol, Killing snoke, M/M, Masturbation in Shower, sex is not described in detail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 15:01:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20360470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudbeckia/pseuds/rudbeckia
Summary: Discredited and disowned, ex-bioengineer Hux has disappeared and is lying low, resorting to petty theft for survival. He sees a rich-looking man with his wallet almost falling out of his back pocket by itself.He can’t ignore an opportunity like this.But taking Kylo Ren’s wallet has repercussions Hux could never have imagined.Disclaimers:I know nothing about how business operates.This started life as a twitfic that grew and grew and...





	Pickpocket

Hux can’t believe his luck. The wallet is just _there_, unattended, poking out of the man’s back pocket. It’s practically asking to be lifted. Begging for it, really. Be a crime not to.

Just to be sure he walks behind the large man for a few metres, trying not to stare at the bulge of his back pocket. He looks out for a distraction and when it happens—at a crossing the man stops abruptly and Hux walks into his back—his deft fingers slip the leather free. Hux mumbles an apology and steps aside into the crown before the man has a chance to turn his head. The unfortunate person the man glares at for barging into his personal space is not Hux.

Hux smiles and hangs back as the lights change and the crowd scurries across the busy street, his prize secure in his hands, stuffed into the front pocket of his hoodie. He crosses the street at right angles and walks away. He can’t look yet.

He doesn’t look until he gets to the single room he calls home.

He savours the moment. Sometimes he’ll use a cafe bathroom stall to extract cash and cards then dump the wallet deep in the waste bin. If the card has contactless enabled he’ll spend small amounts then dump it too. But he can tell from the feel that this find merits proper attention. He makes tea, sits at his small table and opens the wallet. He pulls out enough cash to make him smile, two heavy, black credit cards the like of which he has never seen before, and a business card.

On the front, the card is embossed with a name and business address:

_Kylo Ren_  
_Acquisitions Manager_  
_Snoke Securities_

On the back, there is a message, handwritten in neat permanent ink:

**$500 reward for the return of this wallet, intact.**  
**No questions asked.**

Hux raises his eyebrows. There is enough cash on the table in front of him that he will eat well for a week, but it falls short of the amount promised on the note. He studies the credit cards and decides he won’t be able to use them. Something that fancy must be traceable.

He studies the wallet itself. It appears to be empty, but he feels through the leather and the lining.  
He has missed something. A hidden pocket.

He weighs up his options.

One. Take the cash now, ride the bus somewhere busy and dump the rest.

Two. Return the intact wallet (Oh I found it, no there wasn’t any cash inside but it’s a nice wallet and I thought you’d appreciate getting it back) and collect the reward on top of the cash he had already mentally spent on breakfasts, lunches and dinners.

Three. Unpick the stitching of the wallet and see what was worth *at least* $500 to this Kylo Ren.

Hux taps his fingers on his table for a few seconds. _Eeny meeny miny mo._

Rent’s due in a week. He shakes out the penknife he keeps in his sleeve and slits through the stitching. Inside, he finds a memory chip and another note.

**This is your last chance to return the wallet and claim the reward, now $400 because you ruined my wallet.**

Hux studies the memory card. It’s so small, yet clearly very valuable. He barely considers taking the wallet back with an apology and asking for the offered $400. Something stops him from stuffing the note and the memory card back into the wallet lining. Greed, perhaps. Yes, definitely greed. If the memory card is worth $400 without him even knowing what it contains, Hux thinks, how much more might it be worth if he can bargain for its return—and his silence?

Hux swings back in his chair and reaches for the laptop lying on his futon. He waits an eternity while it boots up then slots the card into the reader on the side of the keyboard. A new icon appears on his desktop. It’s a red circle within a black hexagon. He double-clicks it. His laptop whirrs and whines, but nothing else happens.

He waits until his laptop quiets down and tries again. This time, although he doesn’t recognise the language, he’s pretty sure the word next to the text box on his screen says “password?” Thwarted, for now, Hux sighs. He closes the password window, ejects the memory card, pushes it back into the wallet and turns off his laptop. He knows someone who will be able to get past the security on the card but then he’d have to split the proceeds evenly.

He decides to buy dinner and decide what to do in the morning.  
He crams the cash into his own wallet, grabs his keys and phone, and heads out the door.  
Hux walks the few blocks to his favourite place, orders ramen and beer and sits at the bar chatting with the server. As an afterthought, he buys a beer to drink at home, pays cash and leaves a decent tip.

When he leaves, he’s in a good mood, warmed by food and the beer he’s had. Hux smiles on his familiar walk home. He can’t afford to eat there more than once a month usually, twice if he lifts from someone who still depends on cash, but he lets himself imagine going there often enough to sample the entire menu instead of picking from the same three dishes because he knows he likes them and can’t afford to take a risk.

He gets to his apartment block. The main door is already open but that’s not unusual. He tuts and closes it, pressing until it clicks. He walks upstairs, shoes scuffing on each step, plastic bag rustling as it swings against his leg, keys jangling until he finds the correct one.  
He slots the key into his door, and the door swings open.  
The plastic bag containing his extra beer drops to the floor.  
He realises with horror that the knife he keeps in his sleeve is still on his table, out of reach.  
There is a large man sitting at his table.

Hux’s mind flares with options.  
Run for the door.  
Dive in, grab the knife, fight.  
Feign ignorance.

But the man turns to fix him with a glare and someone slams his room door behind him.  
He can see the man’s face clearly, and he can feel the presence behind him, blocking his escape.  
The large man sees him glance at the knife. He laughs and picks it up, opens the blade, tests it and closes it again. He points over Hux’s shoulder.  
“You think you can hurt me with this before she kills you?”  
His smile is not friendly. Hux risks a glance behind and he sees the tallest woman he has ever met, taller even than him. She has an iron grip on his shoulder and walks him forward.  
“You could have had $500 cash for the inconvenience of a phone call and the price of a bus trip,” the man says, shaking his head. “Are you an idiot?” He huffs. “Let me rephrase that. How much of an idiot are you?”

Hux opens his mouth but can only groan in pain when the woman twists his arm behind him and kicks the back of his legs so that he falls heavily onto his knees.  
“So I have my wallet back, but you tampered with my security.”  
The man holds up the memory card between his fingers.  
“How much did you see?”  
“Nothing!” Hux takes a sharp breath in when a sharp twist wrenches his arm from wrist to shoulder. “I didn’t get past the password. I swear, I didn’t see anything incriminating.”  
“But you do know it’s incriminating, huh?”  
The man nods at the woman and picks up Hux’s laptop.  
“Bring that,” he says, pointing at Hux. “Quietly. Get his phone.”

Hux feels his pockets searched and sees his phone fly through the air to the man’s other hand.  
He feels something poke into his side. It’s painful.  
“If you make a sound,” a voice says in his ear, “I will kill you and make it hurt. Understand?”  
Hux nods. He allows himself to be rough-handled out of the back door of his block and into an anonymously bland car.

The man, Kylo Ren, Hux assumes, drives. The unnamed woman zip-ties his wrists to his ankles, shoves a balled-up cloth into his mouth and searches him until she finds his wallet.  
“Armitage Hux,” she says. “Is that a made-up name?”  
He’s about to reply when she hits him and he blacks out.

When Hux wakes up, his head throbs and, mercifully, it’s dark. He groans and senses movement from the other side of the room.  
“Turns out Armitage Hux is your real name,” the woman says. “You can call me Phasma. That’s my real name too. I chose it myself.”  
“What—” Hux says, swallows, groans, and tries again. “What were you doing in my apartment?”  
“Waiting for you, you moron,” Phasma replies sharply. “I activated the tracker in the wallet stud as soon as Kylo reported he’d been robbed. And when you ignored the second reward and opened the memory card, you might as well have had the entire city’s festive lights pointing at your location, saying _here I am, come get me_. So tell me, Hux, before you have to explain it to Kylo Ren. What’s a talented engineer like you doing living in a shitty little room, pickpocketing for a living?”

Hux is stunned into silence. After a minute, he rubs his head and asks, “How do you know that?”  
Phasma laughs softy. “I know everything about you except why you waste your talents.”  
“Then why ask? Why do you care?”  
“Oh I don’t,” Phasma replies. “But he does.”  
Phasma motions for Hux to get up. He stands unsteadily and feels the pounding in his head intensify for a few heartbeats. He groans quietly. Phasma pushes him from the dark room where he woke up into a larger one and handcuffs him to a chair that sits at a plain table. Both are bolted to the floor. The lights flicker and hum, and Hux closes his eyes against the irritation.  
“Where am I?” he asks.  
“You don’t need to know that,” replies Kylo Ren. “You will tell me what you hoped to gain from prying into my affairs and you will tell me exactly who you are,” Kylo Ren says, pulling over a folding chair and sitting opposite Hux. The plastic creaks and groans. “You WILL tell me,” he repeats. “Everything.”

Hux sighs through his nose. “Fine, I will tell you everything. Not that it’s much.” He stares at the table surface. “I stole your wallet because you look rich and I need money.” He looks up at Kylo Ren’s face, all glittering dark eyes and heavy brows. He can’t look away now. “I thought I could get more out of you if I knew why a wallet was worth five hundred. End of story.”  
Hux jumps as Ren slams a hand flat on the table.  
“That is NOT everything!”  
“What else do you need to know!” Hux yells back. “I have had enough of this! I’m nobody! I have nothing!”

Ren gets up and paces the room.  
“Your father was Brendol Hux of Empire Biotechnical Solutions. Why is the son of Brendol Hux not working in a lab making the next generation of planet-killing bioweapons?”  
Ren puts both hands on the table and leans in. “That’s what I need to know.”

Hux sighs. “Look, can you uncuff my hands? You know I can’t do anything. Phasma already almost tore my arm from its socket and knocked me out once. I have no desire for a repeat performance.”  
Ren nods. Phasma unlocks the cuff holding Hux’s left hand and he rubs his face.  
“Fine. Yes, Brendol is my father. I used to work for him but it got... difficult.”  
Ren leans closer yet stays out of reach of Hux’s free arm. “What do you mean, difficult?”  
“He’s incompetent,” Hux snaps. “I should have been in charge.”

Ren frowns and sits back. He doesn’t spare a single glance at Phasma yet Hux knows she is right behind him. It makes him want to edge forward but he can’t move the chair.  
“So what happened?” Ren demands. “Why are you not in charge of a lucrative bioweapons manufacturing facility?”  
Hux bites his lip and looks away.  
“Tell him,” Phasma says. “He knows. Just needs to hear it from you.”  
“Does he,” Hux growls. “Well then, hear my confession. I failed to murder my father and I got caught and I ran.”  
“So you’re a failure,” Ren says. “A failed bioengineer, a failed killer, a failed thief and a failed blackmailer.”

Hux tries to throw himself over the table, left hand going for Ren’s throat, but his right holds him back. Ren laughs.  
“Don’t be so predictable.”  
Ren looks at Phasma and they exchange a sign Hux only sees part of.  
“I think we can help each other,” Ren says. “You deal with a problem of mine and I will have Phasma deal with your father.”  
Phasma has Hux pinned by the shoulders and Ren has to repeat the offer before Hux frowns and asks, “What do you mean?”  
“My security,” Ren says, putting the memory card on the table. “I do not believe for a second that you saw nothing, so I will show you everything it contains. I will instruct you on how to use this information to bring down someone who is... troublesome to me. In return, Phasma will see to it that your father leaves you a healthy inheritance.”

Hux stares, open mouthed. “You’re offering to kill my father for me in return for—”  
“—in return for you removing an obstacle for me.” Ren nods. “The alternative is that I let Phasma deal with you instead of your father.”  
“I see,” Hux says drily. “In that case I find myself at your service.”  
Ren sits back. He releases a long, slow breath. Hux watches the way his jaw twitches.  
“What now?” Hux asks. “I’m still chained to a chair and I have no idea what you want from me.”  
Ren is silent.  
“Okay,” Hux says. “What’s on the memory card?”  
“Phasma,” Ren says, “bring my datapad.”  
“I don’t trust him,” Phasma says.  
“That’s why we’re going to babysit,” Ren replies. “We’ll keep him here until his job’s done.”

Phasma is only gone for a minute or so. She drops a clunky looking tablet in front of Ren.  
He checks it over and slots the card into the reader on the side.  
“All external connections are disabled. No wifi, no bluetooth, no nothing. Nobody can spy on what I do with this unless they have the device itself.”  
“Are you paranoid?” Hux says in his most unimpressed tone.  
“Yes,” Ren says. “And so should you be. Look.”

Ren talks Hux through accounts and emails and video files that provide circumstantial evidence that the owner of Snoke Securities has been complicit in a range of illegal and immoral activities.  
He gapes as Ren reveals the extent of Snoke’s illicit activities.  
“So you want him gone because he’s evil?” Hux says when Ren, finally, finishes.  
“No,” Ren says. “I want him gone because I should be in command of Snoke’s empire. I can’t do a thing while he’s still at the top.”  
“And where do I fit in?” Hux asks, snappishly. “I failed to kill my own father to secure my position at Empire Biotech. What makes you think I’ll succeed in killing Snoke?”  
Ren smiles and leans forward. “You don’t have to kill him. Discredit him. Blackmail him. End his political aspirations before he gets even more powerful.”  
“You want me to leak all this,” Hux says, chewing at his lower lip. “What’s stopping you from doing it yourself?”  
“Idiot,” Ren says. “I have to be seen to be clean. The logical alternative for a fresh start.”

Hux sits back and rattles the chain of the cuff still holding him to the chair. Ren looks up and nods, and Phasma unlocks it. Hux stretches and rubs his wrists.  
“What’s to stop me from vanishing as soon as I’m out of here?” he asks.  
Phasma laughs. “Oh Armitage,” she says. “You’re not leaving this house.”  
“I’ll take first shift,” Ren says. “Come with me, Hux, and I will show you exactly what to do with that data.”

Hux follows Ren out of the room, and Phasma follows close enough behind Hux that he is aware of the threat. They go up a narrow staircase and emerge into a sleek, modern hallway. Hux turns to see Phasma closing the door. It seems to merge into the pale wood panelling of the wall.  
What kind of monster, Hux wonders, keeps a holding cell and interrogation room in his basement.  
Kylo Ren, evidently.

“In here,” Kylo says, standing aside and motioning for Hux to enter a room first. Hux immediately starts a mental inventory of anything he might use as a weapon. There is nothing obvious, other than furniture that looks either too heavy to lift or too flimsy to cause much damage to a man built like Ren. He can’t even see electrical cables trailing from the computer on the desk. He’s actually impressed by the clinical neatness of the room. With a push and a click, Ren opens a hidden drawer and pops a burner phone from its pack.  
“I’ll contact you on this,” he says, “and give you a schedule of which files to send to which people and at which times. You must adhere to the schedule. You can sleep for now,” he says, pointing at the wall. Hux frowns. Ren sighs, walks over, and pushes a panel. A narrow bed folds down.  
“I’m hungry,” Hux says, just to be awkward.  
“I’ll bring you some food.”

Ren leaves the room. Hux darts after him as soon as the door closes. He’s alarmed to find that there is no handle on the inside of the door. He tries pushing on every panel around the thin line where the door nestles in its frame but the door stays closed. He knows, objectively, that he should be afraid, but now he’s just angry. He’s been assaulted in his home, abducted, rough-handled, forced to rake over painful mistakes and now he’s a captive. He clenches his fist and yells as loud as he can. He kicks at the leg of the folding bed, and it collapses up with a satisfying clunk. Then the bed folds itself back into its recess and Hux realises he really wants to sleep. He sits on the floor, fingers worrying at the deep pile carpet, and considers curling up right there.

The door opens and Ren walks in carrying a paper bag. “I made sandwiches,” Ren says.  
He pushes the panel that makes the bed unfold again and sits down. He hands the bag over. Hux takes it and looks inside. He takes out the sandwich and forces himself to eat.  
“Is it drugged?” he asks.  
Ren laughs. “Shouldn’t you have asked that first? No,” Ren says. “No need. Unless you have trouble sleeping? I want you alert tomorrow.”  
“What time is it?” Hux asks.  
“About 4am,” Ren replies. “Eat that then sleep. You’ll be woken up when I need you.”  
Hux eats sitting on the carpet. Ren shows him which panels to press for the bathroom and for the lights, places the burner phone on a charging pad with a warning to Hux to leave it there, then leaves.

Hux grabs the phone as soon as the door closes and desperately tries to remember the number of anyone who’d help him. He even considers calling the head of security at Empire Biotech, but reasons that he doesn’t seem to be in enough immediate danger to make it worth hearing Peavey’s crowing. As a test, he calls his own number. It’s the only one he has memorised.  
Phasma answers and tells him to go the fuck to sleep.  
As another test, he calls 911.  
Phasma answers again and gives the same instruction in a slightly more annoyed voice.

Convinced he will lie awake, Hux settles on the narrow bunk. He wakes feeling like he has blinked with the phone, back on its charging pad, blaring by his head. He grabs it and answers.  
“Good morning,” Ren’s voice says in his ear.  
“Fuck you,” Hux replies.  
“Ah, not a morning person,” Ren says. “Someone will be along with coffee. Please turn on the computer.”  
Hux hangs up and staggers to the bathroom, takes a cool shower to wake himself up and grimaces as he has to get back into the clothes he has slept in.  
When he comes out, the phone is ringing.  
“Do not hang up on me again,” Ren yells.  
“Okay,” Hux replies. “You can listen to me take my next shit if that’s what floats your boat.”

Ren mutters something Hux doesn’t catch and Hux grins at his reflection in the blank computer screen. He feels around the screen housing and finds the on/off button. He waits the few seconds for the computer to boot up then says, “Okay. Computer’s on.”  
He listens and types as Ren rattles off filenames, email addresses and times. Ren makes him repeat it all back to him.  
“Why do you need me to do this?” Hux asks. “Can’t you set up some automatic system? Or get some flunky to do it?”  
There’s silence for a few seconds. Hux realises with growing heat in his face that he’s the flunky.  
“This way is less traceable,” Ren says eventually. “If it’s traced at all, the trail will point at you, not me.”  
“Oh great,” Hux says. “So as well as doing your dirty work, I get the blame when it all goes to shit.”  
“Then make sure it doesn’t,” Ren snaps. “Follow my instructions exactly.”

Ren ends the call. Hux leans back and sighs. Only then does he notice that there is a cup of coffee and a pastry sitting on the shelf by the foldaway bed. He eats, drinks, and returns to the text file he’s made with Ren’s instructions.

He sets a timer on the phone and investigates the computer’s file system. There is nothing there that Ren hasn’t already shown him. He clicks the mail icon and is logged in to an anonymous sounding account. He writes the first message, attaches the first file, and waits.  
When the phone pings, he clicks “send”.  
He watches the screen for a reply, a read receipt even, but there is nothing.

Ten minutes later, he’s bored. The computer doesn’t even have solitaire. The only link to the outside world seems to be the mail app. He tries sending himself an email but it bounces back with a warning not to be a fucking idiot. He checks the schedule Ren dictated. He has over an hour before the next message, so he sets a new alert and spends some time investigating every panel in the walls, rediscovering the little ensuite but finding only empty drawers and cabinets otherwise. He wonders what would happen if he sent a different message to the next recipient.

He types in a new mail message:  
_Help I am being held captive _  
He stops. He realises he doesn’t know where he is.

He deletes it and types another.  
_I have been abducted by people calling themselves Kylo Ren and Phasma and forced to participate in their plan to take down Snoke._

He reads it. If it sends, one of them may well kill him and nobody would know. Just another loser vanished, moved on, changed their name and started a new scam somewhere else. Or he might hear nothing and eventually starve with Ren and Phasma gone and nobody knowing he was here.  
He thinks of all Ren’s evidence against Snoke and the things Snoke has allegedly done to get to his position, then allegedly done under the privileged position of having enough money to buy off or remove anyone who opposed him.

His anger spikes and he paces the room until he calms. He deletes what he’d typed and readies the next message.

Snoke deserves everything that Ren hopes is coming to him.

He sends the next message when the phone pings at him then sets the next alarm. He stares at the screen again for a minute. Hux has never tolerated boredom well. He considers all the entertainment the room has to offer and it’s not enough by far.  
The phone rings. He answers. It’s Ren this time.  
“Good work. Keep to the schedule.”  
“I am!” Hux snaps. “There’s nothing else to do.”  
Ren is quiet for a few seconds. Then, “Do you want anything?”  
Hux sighs. “Access to the internet would be nice.”  
“Ha! No,” Ren says. “Not a chance.”  
“I’m bored and I had to put yesterday’s underwear back on after my shower.”  
“Can’t you entertain yourself?” Ren asks.  
“There are only so many times a man can beat off in someone else’s bathroom,” Hux says, “before it’s weird.”  
Ren laughs. “You didn’t,” he says and ends the call.

Hux leaps up and goes into the little ensuite. He examines every nook and cranny but fails to find a spycam. When he comes out, the phone rings again.  
“I promise I wasn’t being a creep,” Ren says. “And I appreciate you deleting that message about being abducted.”  
“How,” Hux says slowly, “is that not creepy?”  
Ren doesn’t answer. Hux ends the call with a quiet curse. Ren and Phasma are probably watching him right now, he thinks. Reading what he types. Seeing what he does. He increases the font size on the text app and types GOING FOR A WANK then goes into the ensuite and closes the door.

He doesn’t.  
He couldn’t even if he thought it would pass the time.  
He stands in the small space, washes his face and glares at his reflection.  
After washing his hands and face, he leaves again.  
On the desk, next to the keyboard, there is a clunky-looking datapad and a paper bag.

The phone rings.  
“I promise nobody will watch you in the restroom,” Ren says. “There are some movies on my datapad. Just dial any random number if you need anything else. Someone will bring you... stuff.”  
Hux laughs. “You really didn’t think this through, did you?”  
“Opportunity presented itself,” Ren says. “You’re perfect.”  
“Perfect?” Hux says with scorn. “You think I’m a failure.”  
“You’re an amateur,” Ren replies. “You need guidance.”

Hux seethes silently at this. He knows it’s true, otherwise he’d be running Empire Biotech with his father reduced to a small brass memorial plate by the reception desk.  
“And you’re guiding me?” Hux says bitterly.  
“Yes,” Ren says. “Obviously.”  
“How will I know if this is working?” Hux asks.  
“You won’t. Nobody will,” Ren replies. “Not for a few days, probably.”  
“A FEW DAYS!” Hux paces the room. “Are you planning to keep me locked up here for DAYS?”  
“Look on the bright side,” Ren says. “Rent’s free.”

Hux takes a breath ready to blast Ren with as many expletives as he can bring to mind, but Ren ends the call and Hux is left yelling at dead air. He sends the next message on schedule then examines Ren’s datapad. It has several movies and ebooks downloaded, but no internet. He sets his next reminder, chooses a movie and lounges on the bunk. He passes the next several hours the same way, watching films and sending emails. He calls his own number and says he’s hungry, and the next time he uses the ensuite he emerges to find takeout pizza on the desk.

He chews pizza and wonders silently why food is only delivered when he’s not present, and looks at the smooth inner surface of the door. Can Ren’s delivery person not open it from the inside either?

A plan forms.  
He uses the phone again. “I’m taking a shower. If I’m going to be here for a while, I need some clean clothes.”  
Then he goes into the ensuite, starts the water running, and waits with his ear pressed to the door.  
When he thinks he hears the click of the room door, he leaps out.

He has no clear plan other than either get out of the room and try to find out where he is or trap whoever is delivering things in the room with him so he can ask questions. At least he’d have someone to talk to.

“DAMN IT! FUCK!” he yells when he careens right into Kylo Ren.

Ren laughs as Hux sprawls on the floor. Ren seems untouched, like he simply absorbed the energy from Hux’s bodyslam.  
“Here,” Ren says, holding out a hand. “Let me help you up.”  
Hux stands without assistance and glares at Ren.  
“Suit yourself. I brought the clothes you asked for.”  
Hux grabs the bundle and retreats back into the ensuite. He decides he may as well have that shower now. He comes out pink-faced and damp-haired, dressed in clean sweats that are at least two sizes too large.  
“At least you didn’t give me your castoff underpants,” he says.  
Ren smiles. “Sit down,” he says. “We should probably talk.”  
“You think?” Hux says, grumpily. “Look, I’m willing to help you take down Snoke. He’s an appalling excuse for a person. But you don’t have to keep me locked up. I want to know how you think this plan of yours will work.”

Ren seems to be mulling over Hux’s words. Hux watches the crease between his eyebrows deepen and eventually Ren’s soft, brown eyes focus on him.  
“No,” he says. “Not yet,” he adds, holding up a hand as if to ward off Hux’s anger. “Once I’m sure I can trust you. And once I know it’s working.”  
Hux grimaces and curses. “Have you ever been on a long-haul flight?” he asks. Ren nods. “Imagine being stuck on a plane for... How long have I been here?” Hux sighs. “And how will you ever know if you can trust me if you won’t trust me?”

Again, Ren frowns at Hux’s words. Hux puts on his most persuasive tone. “Look, I kept your schedule today, didn’t I? I could have just refused to do anything you told me to. I didn’t send an email asking for help. You promised you’d help me get rid of Brendol if I helped you. Isn’t that enough of a guarantee that I’m not going to screw you over?”  
Ren doesn’t respond.  
“I’m bored, Ren. I can only spend so long talking to myself before it gets predictable.”  
“Okay,” Ren says, face clearing. “I’ll keep you company for now. Do you want to watch a movie?”  
Hux clenches his fists and resists the temptation to fling the datapad at Ren’s face.  
Ren laughs. “Come here. Sit down. Stop pacing the room.” He pats the bunk beside him. “I want to show you something.”

Hus grits his teeth and does as Ren says. Ren takes out his phone, taps it a few times and holds it so that Hux can see the screen. Ren is showing him headlines from his news app.

_Snoke Securities Leadership Destabilised Due To Damning Allegations: Mystery accuser promises more evidence soon. _

_Mystery Illness Strikes Empire Biotech CEO: Has Brendol’s bioweapons programme claimed its latest victim?_

Hux’s heart beats faster. He holds his breath until he feels dizzy. “Is that real?” he says when he recovers.  
“Here,” Ren says, holding out his phone. “Google it yourself if you think I faked it.”  
Hux grabs the phone and checks four different news sites. The information is legit.  
“Taking out Brendol won’t be enough,” he says. “Yago has to go, and Peavey, and Canady, and... the whole fucking board.” Hux takes another deep breath. “Or at least enough of them to weaken the rest.”  
“We can do that,” Ren replies.  
“And I need to be there to see it happen.”  
Ren shakes his head. “No. You need to be as distant from Empire as I am from Snoke. You’re still listed as a director. On indefinite leave.”  
“I can’t just walk back in there and say, ‘hey I’m back and I’m in charge now,’ can I?”

Ren ponders this. Hux settles back on the bunk. Over the next hour or so, they discuss the practical and legal implications of their respective situations. Ren explains to Hux the complicated, confounding route his emails take that effectively hides their true source. He also explains the schedule of drip-feeding evidence of Snoke’s malpractice and abuse to keep him under pressure. Hux relishes the challenge of catching Ren out on details of his plan, and Ren adjusts his schedule accordingly.

Ren laughs and claps his hand on Hux’s knee. “Congratulations,” he says, moving ready to get up. “You are now a co-conspirator. If I fail, we’re both going down.” He holds out his hand and Hux returns his phone. Three hours have passed and it felt like twenty minutes. Ren stands up and walks to the door. He looks at Hux.  
“Get some sleep,” he says. “I’ll bring breakfast in the morning if you promise not to leap out at me.”  
“Don’t lock me in, then,” Hux says. “Where would I go anyway? The police? Home? To visit Brendol in his isolation tank?”  
“I’ll think about it,” Ren says. The door clicks closed.

With Ren gone and the door closed, Hux feels more alone than ever. He hurls the datapad across the room where it crashes into the wall and leaves a satisfying dent in the plasterwork. He runs to pick it up and slams it into the wall again and again, dislodging pale crumbs and fine powder, as if he could somehow break through the brickwork and get out. When he finally tires and drops his arms, the datapad is a useless mess of broken plastic, cracked glass and fine-printed circuits, and his hand is bleeding. He curses and heads for the ensuite to clean up the shallow cuts on his hand. He starts when Ren crowds in behind him with a first aid kit.

“You broke my datapad,” Ren says. “And my wall.”  
“I told you not to shut me in,” Hux replies, letting Ren examine the injuries that have already stopped bleeding.  
“Come with me,” Ren says, pulling Hux by his uninjured hand. Ren leads him through the room where Phasma is sweeping up the mess. Phasma spares Hux a glare. Ren stops beside the door, holds Hux’s hand up and uses it to press on the panel that operates the lock.  
The door clicks open.  
“Oh,” Hux says. “Well, then.”  
“Clearly I can’t trust you on your own,” Ren says. “You will be supervised overnight. By me. Not in here. Tomorrow I’ll give you a new schedule. And you will stay in here.”  
“With the door unlocked,” Hux adds.

Ren merely grunts. He leads Hux out of the room, up another set of stairs and into another room. Phasma follows. This is a bedroom, Hux realises, Ren’s bedroom. Phasma pauses by the door. Ren turns and nods to her, and she leaves.  
“Your wife?” Hux says. “Partner?”  
“Business partner,” Ren replies.  
Ren rummages in a drawer. Hux lets his eyes wander around the room. While he’s distracted, Ren spins, grabs his arm and handcuffs him to the bedpost.  
“You’re fucking kidding me,” Hux says. “What if I need to get up in the night?”  
“I thought of that,” Ren says, undressing.

Hux watches blatantly. No point in averting his eyes to make Ren feel less embarrassed. Ren ignores the scrutiny, hangs his suit, balls his shirt and socks and throws them into the laundry basket, and stands in his shorts and vest. After a few seconds, he peels off his vest too.  
“That’s far enough,” Hux says. Ren grins at him.  
“Do you need to use the...” Ren points at the bathroom.  
“Do you have a toothbrush I can use?”

Ren uses the bathroom first. Hux hears clattering. When Ren comes out, he moves the cuff deftly from the bedpost to his own wrist.  
“You are *not* coming in with me,” Hux says.  
“I’ll close my eyes,” Ren says. “Promise. Want me to cover them?”  
“Yes!”  
Ren yanks Hux over to his nightstand and finds a sleep mask. He walks Hux to the bathroom then puts the mask on. Hux suppresses a snigger.  
“What’s funny?” Ren demands.  
“I’m handcuffed to an almost nude, blindfolded man,” Hux retorts. “Under different circumstances, I might call this my lucky night.”

Hux can feel Ren trying not to laugh. He brushes his teeth, jerking Ren’s arm around more than he needs to, washes his face and splashes Ren with cold water. He orders Ren to turn around, relieves himself as noisily as possible, washes his hands thoroughly and splashes Ren again.  
When he’s done, he shoves Ren out of the bathroom. Ren groans.  
“No wonder you’re single if this is how you treat people,” Ren says.  
“How do you know I’m single?” Hux asks.  
“Stab in the dark,” Ren replies. “Which reminds me.” Ren takes off his sleep mask. “Show me you’re unarmed.”  
Hux grins. “Come and find out for yourself.”  
Ren shrugs and pats Hux down with his free hand.  
“What did you think I’d be packing?” Hux asks. “A toothbrush?”

Ren shrugs again. “Get into bed.”  
“Where are you sleeping?” Hux demands.  
“In my bed.” Ren smirks. “With you.”  
Hux looks at the bed. “Can’t. I don’t have any pyjamas.”  
“Oh for fucks sake,” Ren says. “You think I’d be standing here in my shorts if I had a convenient selection of sleepwear?”  
“I don’t have any shorts either,” Hux complains. “And I’m not sleeping in my clothes again.”  
Ren rolls his eyes. “Fine,” he says. “Sleep naked.”  
“I barely know you!” Hux says, grinning at Ren’s irritation.  
“Are you,” Ren says, “deliberately trying to get me to leave you unsupervised all night?”  
“Just establishing reasonable boundaries here,” Hux says. “I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong idea about me.”  
Ren scoffs. “You mean you’re _not_ an annoying little shit?”

Hux smiles. “Well,” he says. “Who’s the kidnapper here and who’s the unfortunate victim?”  
“I’m beginning to wonder,” Ren says. He points across the room. “Top drawer.”  
Hux half-drags Ren across the bedroom, yanks his arm over to open the drawer, rummages through Ren’s underwear and selects a pair of shorts from the very back while Ren tuts at the mess. He steps back leaving the drawer open but Ren blocks his path.  
“I should make you tidy that.”  
“And how are you going to do that?” Hux asks. Then he puffs a breath out through his nose. “If you’re going to treat me like a brat who needs a babysitter, then I’m going to behave like one. Now turn around and close your eyes.”  
Ren does as Hux asks. Hux wriggles out of the sweatpants and pulls on the shorts, tugging Ren’s arm around as much as he thinks he can get away with. He pulls the hoody off and leaves it hanging from the chain of the cuffs that connect their wrists.  
“Okay,” he says. “I think I’m ready for bed now.”

Ren mutters something rude. He rolls his eyes at the garment hanging from between their wrists. “Get into bed then,” he says, voice almost a growl. Ren’s tone makes Hux’s spine shiver and he slips between the sheets before Ren can see the physical effect the whole ludicrous situation is having on him. Ren gets in too, the hoody still attached, bunched between them.  
“Lights!”

The lights turn off at Ren’s command.  
“Lights!”  
The lights turn on at Hux’s call.  
“I swear, I will gag you,” Ren says. “Lights.”

The room is plunged into darkness. Hux is exhausted to the point of delirium. He gets as comfortable as he can, decides he will wait until Ren is asleep then carefully search the nightstand for the key to unlock the cuffs. He’s imagining Ren waking up with his hands cuffed together and the chain threaded through the bed posts when he drifts into sleep.  
He dreams about it too.

Hux wakes with his head on Ren’s arm and Ren spooned around his back. He tries to scratch his jaw and is confused by the resistance until he realises it’s the weight of Ren’s arm and his attached hoody that hinders him. He’s grateful that he only wanted to rub his jaw. Ren groans and shifts as Hux feels over his rough stubble. Ren shifts again, mumbling nonsense into the back of Hux’s neck, hugging him closer, morning wood pressing against Hux’s ass cheek and making him freeze.

He daren’t move.  
It’s a syndrome, he tells himself. It has a name.  
He can’t remember it but he’s sure there is a logical reason why he finds his kidnapper attractive right now. To be fair, he has his eyes closed and his back turned to Kylo Ren. He finds the mental image of his kidnapper attractive, he decides. So he tries to remember in detail what Ren looked like last night wearing shorts, handcuff and nothing else.  
Impossibly hot, his brain supplies. Out of your league. Stupid idea.  
Ren stretches and yawns, pulling Hux’s arm as if he was a puppet. Then Ren says the most welcome word in the world.  
“Coffee?”

Hux yawns, groans and nods. He sits up and somehow manoeuvres the hoody back on. The sweat pants are on the floor and he can’t reach them yet.  
“Need to get up,” Hux says. “Bathroom.”  
Ren rummages in the drawer. He unlocks the cuffs. “Don’t do anything stupid,” he says.  
Hux stands up and stretches. He picks up the sweat pants and turns to see Ren stand and stretch properly too. His memory wasn’t lying. Ren has the kind of broad, muscular build, powerful rather than chiselled, that Hux likes.  
Fuck.  
And in the filtered light from the blinds, features soft with sleep, he looks oddly vulnerable, like Hux could shove him over.

Hux turns away and shuts himself in the bathroom. He looks at his face, pink creases from folds in the pillowcase striping up his cheek, and curses. He rubs the red mark on his wrist, relieves himself then starts the shower. He steps into the glass-walled enclosure and faces the tiles.  
Wrong, stupid, he tells himself. But his mind feeds him images of Ren’s mouth on his cock anyway. He rests one hand against the tiles and cups his balls with the other. Eyes closed, lost in a ridiculous fantasy where he has kidnapped Ren instead, he pleasures himself slowly.

His eyes open abruptly and he almost slips as he turns at Ren’s voice.  
“Do you need some help in there or something? Hurry up!”  
The bathroom door opens. Hux feels the waft of air and turns to face the wall again.  
“Oh, fuck, sorry,” Ren says. “I didn’t—“  
“Have you come to give me a hand?” Hux snaps. “Because if that’s not—”  
“Ah,” Ren says. “Uh.”  
“Um,” he elaborates.

Deflated, Hux turns. “Why are you still standing there?” Hux demands. “I was having a very nice shower.”  
Ren looks Hux up and down through the glass, sightly misted with condensation now. His voice is barely louder than the hum of the extractor fan. “Do you want me to give you a hand?”  
Hux narrows his eyes. “Are you offering or just fucking with me?”  
He regrets his choice of words immediately, but he’s pink from the shower and the embarrassment of having been caught anyway.  
“Offering,” Ren says. “You’re... you’re kind of my type.”  
Hux frowns and presses his lips together. He shouldn’t. It’s stupid. Ren’s face is partly obscured by splashes, but Hux can see he’s looking away, uncertain.

Hux pushes the glass door open. “Get in, then.”  
Ren crowds into the enclosure. It’s designed to be spacious for one, and Ren is bigger than average. Hux can’t help touching him, a hand on his arm, then his shoulder. Ren’s hands are cool on Hux’s waist. He pulls their hips together and Hux giggles and grins at the sensation.  
“This is a really stupid idea,” Hux says.  
“No,” Ren counters. “It’s mutual, um, support. In a difficult situation.”  
“A situation you made,” Hux replies, forefinger resting on Ren’s sternum.  
“You stole my wallet. You started it.” Ren laughs. “Are we just going to argue?”  
Hux takes Ren’s hand and moves it to his cock. Ren snorts a laugh.  
“I’m not arguing about this,” Hux says. He watches Ren’s throat move as he sucks his lip and swallows. “You know,” Hux says, “when you so rudely interrupted me, I was having a very nice fantasy. Want to hear it?”  
Ren’s eyes are locked to his. He nods.  
“Well, without too much detail, you were on your knees and I was having a very nice time indeed.”  
“You want me to make your fantasy come true?”

Hux nods. Ren pushes him gently but firmly against the tiles to make room for himself to kneel. Hux gasps in shock at the cold. Ren looks up and grins. He pulls Hux’s hips forward a little and mouths at his balls. Hux grips the top edge of the enclosure, closes his eyes and lets his world reduce to the sensation of Ren’s mouth working on his cock.  
Hux garbles a warning. Ren ignores it.

After, Hux doesn’t dare move in case his knees give way. Ren rests his head on Hux’s stomach and kneads his ass with both hands for a minute before struggling to stand without banging elbows, hips and knees on the inside of the glass. Ren laughs at Hux’s expression: eyes closed, soft smile.  
“Now I know how to shut you up,” Ren says. “Wish I’d thought of it earlier.”  
“I can think of another way,” Hux replies, shutting off the spray and opening the door. “Bed.”  
Ren groans and shakes his head. “Can’t. Schedule.”  
Hux bumps his head gently on Ren’s shoulder. “Fucking schedule.”  
Ren laughs. “Later. Now, coffee.”  
They get out of the bathroom, towel dry and dress. Ren holds up the cuffs and the key. Hux takes the key and allows Ren to cuff them together again.

Ren leads Hux downstairs and into a bright, spacious kitchen where Phasma presides over a hissing coffee machine. Ren wishes her good morning. She grunts. Ren leads Hux around the kitchen to pour coffee and warm croissants. Phasma watches.  
“So,” she says. “You fucked.”  
“No,” Ren says.  
“Not yet,” Hux adds.  
“Fucking hell,” Phasma murmurs into her coffee mug.

Ren outlines the schedule for the day’s revelations and Hux takes notes by painstakingly setting multiple alarms on the burner phone. Phasma clicks the TV on. It’s a news channel. Hux watches, entranced.

_ _“This morning there is further speculation about the future of Snoke Securities since a number of salacious revelations yesterday..._ _

His eye takes in the ticker at the bottom of the screen.  
_Several Empire Biotech board members hospitalised..._

He exchanges a glance with Ren, and they both smile. Once he’s refilled his coffee mug, Hux picks up the phone. “I’ll get to work, then,” he says. “Any chance you can get me a new datapad?”  
Phasma snorts. Ren gets up too since he’s cuffed to Hux. “Someone will bring you one,” he says.  
Hux frowns at Ren. “You’re not locking me in again, are you?”  
“Of course,” Ren replies, with a wink when he thinks Phasma is not looking. “I think you understand how we can help each other, but it’s safer.”  
“Ren, we need to leave,” Phasma says. “Meetings start in an hour.”

Ren escorts Hux to the room with the secure computer and little else. When the door closes behind them, Hux yanks Ren towards him with the handcuff and pulls him into a kiss. It’s heavy and needy and broken suddenly when Hux shoves Ren off and unlocks the cuffs.  
“Be nice to me today,” Hux says, “and I’ll be nice to you later.”  
Ren swallows and wets his lips. “Stick to the schedule,” he says.

Ren leaves. Hux waits ten minutes before he tries the door panel. There’s a click and the door opens. He checks the schedule. He has almost an hour before he has to send the first incriminating email of the day. He goes back into the kitchen, makes more coffee and conducts a reasonably thorough search of all the drawers.  
He ignores the fancy knives. That’s not the kind of weapon he needs any more.

After he has sent the first email, he goes up to Ren’s bedroom and searches there. Again, although he finds a few objects that would normally interest him, he doesn’t find what he’s looking for. He searches the other bedrooms quickly. Most are empty, guest rooms decorated in tastefully inoffensive shades, and he finds nothing useful.

One other room looks used.  
Phasma’s.  
He pauses at the door as if there might be wild animal waiting to attack should he set foot inside.

He finds what he needs in the pocket of the jacket she had been wearing yesterday: his phone.  
The battery is drained so he takes it to ‘his’ room and places it on the charging pad. The burner is beeping at him and he realises he’s three minutes late for the next email.  
He sends it and waits.  
The burner rings two minutes later.  
“Were you asleep?” Phasma’s voice is as sharp as ever.  
“Yes,” he lies. “Nodded off. Must be the boredom.”  
The call disconnects. He calls up the schedule again and gets the next email ready.  
His hand often automatically goes for his own phone, but it is charging slowly so all he can do is wait and stick to the schedule. No more slip ups.

He sends a steady drip-drip of evidence as directed until his phone is charged enough for what he wants to do, then he goes into the kitchen and watches the business news channel for long enough to get up to speed with the effect. Snoke is being encouraged to give himself up and ‘assist federal agents with their enquiries’ into a range of criminal activities including election fraud, trafficking and money laundering.

_Empire Biotech shares have plummeted._  
Hux makes his first phone call of many.

He’s not bored today. Ren calls him twice: once to tell him to disable the burner and remove its battery then take another from a hidden drawer Hux hadn’t found already, and once to check the new number works.

He has more calls of his own to make too. By the end of business, Hux owns enough of Empire Biotech to be able to walk into the boardroom, sit down, and tell anyone who questions him to get the fuck out. He waits for his own phone to ring and one of his brokers to tell him he owns just another three percent, enough to make him the majority shareholder. Meanwhile, he keeps feeding Ren’s evidence to a range of news outlets, business partners and investigators.

Hux makes himself food when he’s hungry and keeps one eye on the news channels. Rumours about Snoke’s disappearance get wilder and wilder as the day lengthens, and there are some truly inventive conspiracy theories circulating about the mystery illness afflicting Empire Biotech.  
Around five in the afternoon, Ren calls him again.  
“Send them all,” he says. “Every file that hasn’t been released yet. Send them all to every address I’ve given you so far.”  
“What then?” Hux asks. “Should I leave?”  
“No!” There are four seconds of silence then Ren repeats, “no. Stay.”

It takes a while to send all the emails because some of the remaining files are large, but by six it is all done. Hux leans back and checks his own phone.  
Nothing.  
He hopes he has done enough, both for Ren and for himself.

Ren arrives back shortly after eight. He has takeout and champagne and there is no sign of Phasma. Hux is feeling light. From the news channel he has learned that Snoke has been found (alas in no condition to answer any questions), Snoke Securities has an interim board headed by someone called Ben Solo, squeaky-clean son of a congresswoman, who is offering full cooperation with any official inquiry, and Brendol Hux passed away leaving his son Armitage as his sole heir. Not that there will be much, Hux thinks. Not that there is anything he wants from the old bastard. Perhaps in a show of compassion he can give it all to Brendol’s most recent ex-wife, Maratelle, or donate it to a charity Brendol would have hated.

“Are we celebrating?” Hux says as Ren pops the champagne open and pours two glasses.  
“Uh-huh!” Ren nods and grins. “I got what I wanted.”  
“That’s nice for you,” Hux says with a frown. He accepts a glass and watches while Ren opens the takeout cartons.  
“I got something you wanted too,” he says. “At least, I think you’ll want it.”  
“It better be something more than...” he peers into a carton, “...Thai green curry.”  
“It’s good, I promise,” Ren says. “It’s something big.”  
“Is it your cock?” Hux says. Ren splutters and laughs.  
“You can have that later,” Ren says, grinning. “No. I bought out several shareholders in Empire Biotech. I own forty-eight percent.”  
Hux glares, food halfway to his mouth. “No. No you can’t have.”  
“What?”  
“Because I also own forty-eight percent of Empire.”  
Ren frowns at Hux. “So who has the other four percent?”  
Hux shakes his head. “It barely matters. Whoever it is, they can’t do much to stop me from restructuring and going after bigger contracts. International ones.”

“I like your thinking,” Ren says. “With our joint stake in biotech and my control of Snoke’s interests we’ll be able to—”  
“But you don’t have control of Snoke’s... Who’s this Ben Solo guy? Can you get rid of him too?”  
Ren laughs. “I don’t need to worry about Ben Solo.”

“What would you have done,” Hux says, “if I hadn’t taken your wallet? Or if I’d returned it and asked for $500?”  
Ren sits back in his chair and shrugs. “I can’t answer that. I was waiting for an opportunity. Someone else with an axe to grind. You presented yourself.”  
“So this was all a massive coincidence?”  
“Seems that way,” Ren agrees. He looks over at Hux, face impassive.

Hux decides that’s a discussion for another day. He holds his hand out to Ren.  
“Come on then,” he says. “You promised me something big.”

Epilogue:  
The inquest into Snoke’s death shows that he was bisected with some kind of laser cutter. It’s ruled as suicide by the presiding judge, a man called Tritt Opan.  
The precise pathogen that led to the demise of Brendol, Yago, Peavey and Canady was never identified, but was suspected to have been transmitted by biting insects.  
Phasma owns the other 4% of Empire Biotech. She taunts Hux and Ren with it whenever she wants something, like Peavey’s old job as security chief.  
Ren doesn’t own up to being Ben Solo until Hux insists on meeting his mother-in-law.  
Hux finds spyware on his phone. He never tells Ren he knew he was targeted deliberately.


End file.
